Trajectory
by Good Question
Summary: Spoilers to S5E18 Domestic!Destiel Dean's convinced that saying yes to Michael is the only way to prevent the tragedy he saw in the future Zacharia showed him. Dean also believes that this is the only future available if he does not say yes. In an attempt to not loose Dean, Cas makes a future trip to an alternate time line to prove him wrong, and to give himself a little hope too.


**Title: Trajectory**

**Pairing: Dean/Castiel**

**Rating: T**

**BG Writing Song; **Forrest Gump Theme by Alan Silvestri

**Summary; **Spoilers to S5 E18 . Dean is convinced that saying yes to Michael is the only way to prevent the tragedy he saw in the future Zacharia showed him. Dean also believes that this is the only future available if he does not say yes. In a desperate attempt to not loose Dean, Cas makes a future trip to an alternate time line to prove him wrong, and to give himself a little hope too.

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Cas blinked confused his body feeling significantly different. He breathe in a scent of fresh air, he only had a vague recollection of the flavors. His nose itched. There was a breeze that gathered at his back and swept upwards and he felt the hair on his arm spike upwards in response. A chill. Turning around he took in the vibrant colors that felt a little too much. It seemed like someone had thrown him into a water pool of color. He closed his eyes tightly and rained in the feeling, he had to concentrate. Breathe. In and out.

He flexed his fingers and sighed as he felt one of his knuckles pop. Things felt strangely human.

By the colors on the leaves he could tell they were stretching into early autumn, summer barely clinging to the last of the world around them. The warm caress of sunshine on his back and the slight dampness at the center of the back helped those last shreds of sunnier days stick to him.

It had to be the right time, he hadn't miscalculated although he had expended more energy than had been necessary. Castiel just hadn't expect things to be so startlingly... human, in the future.

If he'd chosen to expand more energy he may have been able to pinpoint the specific location he was at. The urgency he'd found himself in, however, hadn't allowed for any more expenditure of energy. He'd zeroed in on his vessel's DNA, and remnants of himself, his grace, and melded with the person he was in that time. He had expected a more seamless merging but he had never traveled into the future and found his head to feel quite split in two. Theoretically speaking he shouldn't have even been able to manage it. Time travel was something he'd only been fully capable of when attached to the Host of Heaven and especially now, despite his resurrection, he shouldn't have been able to move an inch in time let alone more than half a decade into the future. Castiel only prayed that it was because this was meant to happen, he was meant to see this to prevent Dean from erasing everything they had worked so hard to do.

He'd just lost God, he wasn't going to lose Dean too.

It was almost endearing how heavily he put himself between the bad things and the innocents in the world, how his soul bled for every human being that suffered. Almost. Because the failure to protect every single being, and perhaps his own loss of faith, had driven Dean on the run and vibrating with a need to say to Michael.

They'd had themselves a private conversation after he'd returned Dean to Bobby's household. Dean had let himself to a few drinks and drunkenly confessed to every guilt, doubt, fear, and the weariness in his bones from years of fighting.

The one that had hit him the most was the fear for him.

He and Dean had never discussed what had happened when he'd fetched him from Zacharia. Other than a fond hand on his shoulder and a look that sent a flutter akin to having a star in your stomach through him. Even for him, he had to admit, the future Dean had found himself in did not make Castiel feel at ease.

But he refused for that to be the only option. According to Dean they'd changed some of it already, by simply talking to Sam. Then he'd confessed that deep down he still felt that the world would go to hell.

The morning left them both bitter and angry, Dean hadn't budged at all on his stance to volunteer and Cas hadn't been able to properly articulate his disappointment. He'd almost let himself have a little hope but then his head had rung in the chorus of angels of a soul being shot into the earth to be re-made.

Of course it had to be another Winchester.

Before they locked Dean in the panic room, after Castiel knocking him out for fight-free transpiration, the look in his eyes had felt like a twist of a knife. He had to do something. Give Dean some home, that there was another alternative to the story. Zacharia was manipulative and there were thousands of possibilities and time lines that have existed and ceased to exist again and again. He'd returned briefly with Sam to find Dean in no better of a mood, but he'd assumed the flirtation was an invite to return later. He would have to make sure he had more ammunition to walk in with.

So he made the costly choice of tapping into Dean's time line, tethering himself to the string of Grace and crash landed in a future.

The world wasn't burning, and it was Dean's future. It had to be a good place to start.

He appeared to be standing in a park of some sort, with a gravel rock path that winded forward. There were no buildings around for him to check his reflection in but he glanced down at his body and found himself wearing jeans and a faded t-shirt, and judging by the smell one of Dean's jackets. It brought a smile to his face thinking that maybe this was a sign that they remained in the future, after all wasn't that something human lovers did? Let their significant others wear their clothing?

Nearby he heard the thrum of a few cars passing by and turned towards them. He had hoped that when he invaded his future self he would be near Dean. Instead he found himself lost and confused and feeling terribly cramped. Every so often as he stood examining his surroundings he thought he felt the hum of another voice in his head. He rubbed his temple with his palm and turned around trying to garner more from his surroundings. Staying still didn't seem like it would get him anywhere so he began walking down the path, gravel crunching underneath his feet. Following the path led him further towards the edge of the park and past the black decorative railings he finally saw large red bricked buildings. Some of them had shops on the lower floors, and some had a basement level with stairs converted into similar places, all with apartments on top of them. Castiel couldn't tell if they were vacated or not.

At the very least he knew he was in a city that had very much kept it's older architecture alive. It didn't help him narrow down the cities by too much. He made the educated guess that they still had to be in the United States, with Dean's fear of flying he highly doubted he would've relocated overseas. The wind sent another breeze towards him and it sent a flew leaves scattered into his path and he brought a hand up to push through his own hair. There were two options. He could leave the park, perhaps hop over the fence since it appeared his wings were dragged down by something heavy (it had been the other thing he had noticed. Although they made weak flapping attempts he found he could not lift them as he had hoped), or follow the curved road.

Cas took a minute to tune into himself, human beings did have an interesting type of memory for patterns. He'd seen them indulge in it several times, their conscious pulling back and their body moving forward about their usual tasks. He attempted it then and listened to the twitches in his muscles. Obediently he stepped forward and let himself be led around the park, almost closing his eyes but finding that might make him stand out. If staring unblinking at someone for long periods of time was not appropriate amongst humans he made the guess that walking with closed eyes for long periods of time would fall for the same category. He made a mental note to inquire about that the next time he saw Dean.

Not before long, and after passing a few other people traveling the same path, he'd found himself at the edge of the park. His feet stilled and he felt a conflict in the twitches his muscles attempted to give him. Apparently his path from here varied enough not to be engrained as he had hoped. He made no attempt to delve deeper into his own time line, the paradoxical nature of the situation would make it useless. There wasn't a way he could know something he had yet to learn. So Cas glance around and made a choice from random, choosing to turn left and towards the row of buildings he'd seen before. There was a walkway and a few street signs he could look at to make sense of his location, the change in his vessel still preventing him from his usual angelic powers, that or the strain it had taken for him to travel that far. The street names proved to be of no help, he knew of at least four intersections in the United States that held the same names. He huffed and continued down the slopping street, vaguely aware of cars passing by. It was a very scenic city if nothing else.

Eventually he found himself growing a little weary, and found that to be a new sensation as well. He spotted a bench and briefly paused at it, confused at the limits of his body. The longer he sat at the bench, his elbows on his knees and hands clasped together between them, the more he made the assumption that if nothing else he had been loosing his grace in this future, in massive quantities but perhaps not completely. If he had there would not have been a way for him to attach himself to the time line.

Confusion continued to buzz like a nest of bees in his head as clouds covered the sun. His body gave a quick spasm as something in his pocket began vibrating and playing a classical tune. He scrambled to find it, quickly seeing something light up in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the name, relief flooded him.

"Dean."

"_Hey Cas," _the tone of his voice was fond, and a little humored, perhaps at the urgency in his own voice when Castiel had said his name.

"Hello," he replied a little calmer, not sure where to carry the conversation. And as he prepared to tell him exactly what happened a horrifying thought flew out of that strange hum in his head, that Dean would not at all be happy about this.

"_I swear we need to get you classes on how to hold a conversation," _there was a clanking sound in the background, _"just wondering where you were. You're usually home for dinner at this time. Food's almost done, man and I don't know how long I can wait." _

"I'm lost," he said simply not having decided his personal dilemma yet. What problem could Dean possibly have with this development? It was still Castiel after all, and it wasn't as if they hadn't time traveled before. He was angel and thus was a constant in time until he ceased to be one.

There was laughter on the other end of the line, _"Lost? How the hell did you get lost? We've lived here for like 2 years. You go to the damn park nearly every day." _

Castiel smiled to himself at that. If nothing else he knew he'd been living with Dean for two years and it was a good feeling. "Well I did, direct me home."

"_You have a really weird way of trying to be cute, Cas," _Dean replied but indulged him anyway. Castiel got the feeling as he kept Dean on the line and followed the rather simple direction towards their home, that Dean indulged him in a lot of frivolous things such as this. Perhaps it had something to do with his nearly graceless status. He could imagine just how disorienting it had to have been for him first, if his own personal emotions were anything to go by. When Dean told him 'almost there' in good humor there was a strange rush of warmth that raced through his body, speeding his blood up. He couldn't wait to see where they lived.

As he approached the courtyard area of the 5 story apartment building he smiled.

He couldn't wait to tell Dean about this.

"_You need to be walked up the stairs or what?" _

"Yes," Cas replied with a smile playing on his lips.

In this Dean indulged him also and when he made it up to their landing he found himself floored by emotion. Seeing Dean, while always exhilarating, had never felt quite so alive. This he put to also body memory, a response that years of being close to Dean had trained. And perhaps even his own emotions projecting through the lessening of his grace, allowing it to burst through with human intensity. His body quivered and heated, Dean was as handsome as ever. The years had done nothing but strengthen his looks, broad, sturdy, and with an open smile that Cas had never seen on him before. It took his breath away and he stood in the hallway next to the stairs, sunlight playing on his back from the window in the side wall, just staring. Dean tilted his head a little confused and stepped forward towards him shaking his head.

Cas's pulse sped up and he found himself terribly excited. In a few slow breaths Dean was near him and Castiel felt his body warmed up. Instinctively he moved into the heat, not stopping to think that maybe he should explain first. Dean's arms came around him and pulled him close, his nose nuzzling into the skin exposed at his neck. Cas let his body relax and a content sigh fluttered past his lips. It sneaked past Dean's ear as the other man pulled back causing him to shiver. There was a gentleness in his eyes as he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on Cas's nose. If he hadn't been aware of what was happening, he could've sworn someone had pricked him with electricity the way it tingled.

"You're weird today," Dean said as he pulled back and examined him, but there was nothing but a gentle teasing that murmured years of affection.

"Dean," he replied simply and contently, leaning back towards Dean's body wanting more of it. These were allowances he had not had with Dean.

His Dean, the one sitting in the panic room contemplating what was essentially suicide. (Surely Dean had to know that as a rebelling angel, if Michael and Lucifer were to battle it out, he would not survive it. And that unless he gave specifications Michael would make sure Sam was out of the picture as well, a weaker vessel would be preferential in the fight.) Dean couldn't be so dense as to think that the world he made it back to would hold any of his loved ones, it would kill him. While Michael may not ride his body into oblivion as his other brothers were often known to do, it would be years before he received control back.

His Dean would not have allowed him to get this close.

His Dean would only allow himself glances. Occasional brushing of hands, a shy dance so very different from anything he'd observed in Dean's young life. He had never been so careful, so withdrawn with any of his other conquests. Castiel had once; earlier on at the brothel, when they'd returned home and Dean had only given him a longing stare and a strong hand running down the side of his arm, thumb linger on his skin (perhaps he should have mimicked the motion); played with the idea that he was different to Dean for this. That this apprehension, his callous gentleness with their relationship meant he was unique.

This Dean however simply chuckled in amusement and ran a warm hand through his hair. "Come on feathers," he said turning and sliding his hand down to Castiel's waist and pulling him towards their apartment. The scent in the air was very good.

Before he could stop himself Castiel blurted out a hushed, "You cook?"

Dean gave him an affectionate slap on the back of his head and ushered him in, "Smart ass. You know I do."

Although he'd glanced at different sections of Dean's life he had never truly zeroed in on some of the smaller details. And his past two years with the Winchesters had led him to believe that neither brother had particularly great culinary skills. Which wasn't their fault, they had never had a chance to develop them.

The apartment he was led to seemed cozy. Big windows that overlooked the trees and gave a rather nice view of the rest of the city. For a third story floor they were rather high up. He walked tentatively to the windows, pressing his hands to the glass, splaying his fingers. It was very gorgeous, he thought to himself as his eyes reached the horizon. To his very human eyes it reminded him a little of being perched up high, mid flight. A shy bubble floated in his chest as he wondered if perhaps that is why he and Dean had agreed to them. Wide, vulnerable open windows did not seem like a Winchester patent for safety. So surely it was for him. It endeared him to think that Dean would have made this compromise for him.

"Staring again?" Dean asked softly moving up behind him. He wrapped his strong arms around his waist and leaned into him. "One of those days then?"

Cas indulged himself once more and leaned back into the broad chest and let his head fall to the side. Judging by the feeling that the sight roused from him, he made the assumption that 'one of those days' could only refer to days where he felt the need to fly, or something of the same.

"Can I still fly?" Cas asked forgetting completely that this Dean was not his, and that he was living in the life.

The question seemed to confused Dean, but the sink in his body and the way that he held Castiel tighter implied to him that perhaps he had said this before. That he often asked such questions perhaps in a rhetorical way if the soft nuzzle of a nose beneath his hairline and a kiss to the nape of his neck were any indication.

"Let's eat," Dean said pulling him away from the window, a sad lopsided smile on his face. He reached out with what he could still grasp of his grace and pushed himself a little into Dean, widening his perception beyond the flesh and to glance at his soul. A dark, sad spot had flared up at his words. Uselessness was a feeling that moved back up the line to him.

Cas felt a sudden desire to desperately kiss him.

Instead he pushed further with his grace and gently caressed. He moved his hand along Dean's chest physically, so as to distract him from the sensation. Cas thought peace and affection towards the area and was pleased when Dean's smile returned.

"Yes, let's," Castiel said moving past him towards the table they had. It was simple, a light wood color and just large enough to fit a handful of people around it. On top of it Dean had set up a bowl of what appeared to be pasta and in a bowl next to it was a thick sauce of tomatoes, herbs and meatballs. Dean rushed past him and made a weak gentlemanly effort to nudge the other chairs that were in Cas's way to the side. He gathered that there were specific chairs they took each time. His heart fluttered a little as Dean sent a shy smile his way, eyes darting down to the food. It's almost as if he was asking for approval, and praise, if he'd done right.

Cas reached over and brushed a thumb over Dean's knuckles on the table and helped himself to some of it. He had no idea what portions he usually ate. He had never required eat, and his incident with Famine wouldn't exactly count as a dining experience. Judging by the amount of food that had been made tho', he also decided that his grace had to be depleted enough for him to require regular means. It was eerily human but not in any frightening way that Dean had described to him in his dream.

He watched Dean from underneath his eye lashes as he piled food onto his own plate. After skimming through a few of his memories of having watched human beings eat this meal, he took his fork, cut one of the larger meatballs in half, twirled some spaghetti onto the fork and speared the half piece. He turned it once more in the air to catch the end tail and slowly shoved it into his mouth. It pleased him that he had been a lot more graceful with his first attempt at eating with a fork in this strange heavy body than he had expected.

Flavors began coursing through his mouth and he closed his eyes pleased, he let out a small hum to match his contentment. Cas chewed slowly letting all of the flavors slide around his mouth before swallowing and opening his eyes. Dean was staring at him with a hopeful expression. "It's amazing, Dean," he said giving him a small smile. That was something he needed to work on, he thought. Smiling. It wasn't an activity he indulged in often but this Dean had his lips curving and moving with a mind of their own. And the body he had seemed to constantly be tugging his lips further up. He wondered if he laughed like humans did, all full body and exploding with sound. Their joy sprinkling out of the like fireworks if you could see that kind of stuff.

Dean puffed up with pride and dug into his own meal with vigor. Cas ate slower and listened to Dean mumble a few things between bites.

"So I was talking to Sam-" Castiel brightened up at this. Sam was alive and well, whatever method they had chosen instead to defeat the apocalypse had left both of the brothers in good condition. His Dean had hope. "- and he was wondering if we could drive up and help some hunters up in New York. I know it's a bit of a drive and you hate being in the car that long but Sam can't make it all the way from California."

"California?" Cas repeated savoring another piece of his meal.

"Yeah, he had some exams or whatever. He's going to be out off limits again for another few months with that school bull shit." Dean's words were harsh and disapproving but the proud and warm tone told Cas more truths.

He had no idea what school Sam would be attending, he had never cared about the younger brother quiet that much for details, but he had known that it was something he had always wanted to return to despite Dean's protests. It brought him another soft flare of hope, knowing that not only had Sam achieved what he had wanted to in the after-apocalypse world, but Dean was begrudgingly and endearingly supportive of it. Perhaps it was because he still made himself available to hunts, or maybe it was because Dean had Cas to drive with him.

The prospect excited him and he wondered how long he was going to be staying in this world. He'd originally only come for a simple recon, something positive to send back to Dean, something to fight with. It wouldn't be fair (and the angry hum in the back of his brain seemed to agree) to stay longer, to play this game when there were more pressing matters to be dealt with. Although he knew he could return to the exact moment in time, if he waited too long and time stretched too far in this universe he may miss his window with his depleted powers.

He told himself as he nodded in agreement to Dean's plan, who grinned widely at him, that he would simply stay until he felt stronger and that he could lift his wings to skirt about the city. Even as he told himself that his wings responded obediently and a treacherous part of his brain convinced himself that they were more exhausted than their excited fluttering implied.

Surely he was allowed to hold on just a little longer, he thought as he put the last forkful into his mouth, leaving a small piece of spaghetti behind.

He wasn't even done with his meal yet.

With that thought in mind he purposely left the piece on the plate as Dean cleared up the plates. He found himself being led by Dean to the couch and they fell together onto it. Dean's hand came up and Cas found himself easily slotted underneath it and against him. He let his head drop and twisted his fingers into Dean's shirt as he listened to the soft thump of his heartbeat. Red and orange rays lit up the apartment, and with the curtains drawn open it left the entire place in it's soft hue. There was a soft glare on the TV from it but Dean didn't seem to mind so Castiel made no mention. The longer he could nestle close to him like this the better, he wasn't about to make any complaints. Not that he was watching the TV anyway.

While Dean let his hands idly brush through Castiel's hair he took a look around the rest of the place. There was a small bookshelf near the TV stand with what a collection of pictures on each level. From some of the shapes he could guess the ones where at least Sam was featured, just as he always did, towering over every one in the frame. He tried to inspect from his position on the couch to see if there was a shorter figure, perhaps something metallic to suggest a wheelchair and Bobby's survival but found he couldn't make out much more than blur from this far. Mentally, already in a lulled mindset that he was in fact living there at the time, he made a note to scoot the couch closer in the future.

There were a few posters and frames adorning the walls, nothing he recognized so he assumed they were Dean's cultural influence on the room. A giddy flicker jumped up and down between his ribs as he thought about spending quiet evenings with Dean, learning all of these small things. Finally understanding the references. Teaching people seemed to make Dean happy. Especially when he was teaching on a subject he found particular passion in. He could recognize none of the books lining the book shelves that spread out haphazardly across the rest of the apartment. They looked like more of an after thought and that strange hum in the back of his head, louder now and thrumming through more of his body, seemed to find amusement in that thought.

Castiel had largely ignored the stead thrum that he'd found himself accompanied by since he'd arrived. It was unusual and had never happened in his other time travels and while having chalked it up to it being a difference in the lack of angel in him in this time, it kept pushing at him and growing louder. Perhaps a little irritated. The hum hadn't felt threatening, and even a little familiar. He wondered if it was perhaps what his grace would deplete to, but he'd only sensed a little of it in the abstract swirl. The rest of it felt, oddly... human. But as Dean kissed the top of his head he pushed the hum further back, imagining it flattering a little against the back of his head and dipped further down into the couch. It was a blessing that this body remembered Dean so well, he had never been close like this with anyone before and if it weren't for Dean's ever present hands guiding him and his responsive body following, Cas was sure he would've botched it up.

Something akin to guilt floated through his mind as he thought about how stolen the moment felt. He found he couldn't explain why. He found he couldn't explain a lot of things. The hum's small fight with him had made him realize just how much of his body thrummed with it, like an memories that were out of sync with him. Like he was inhabiting someone else, which didn't make sense with it being still Jimmy Novak's vessel, and with the imprint of his grace on it surely it could belong to no one else. These heavy waves of emotions could not belong to anyone else.

And selfishly, he thought, if anyone were to steal a moment in time. He may as well steal it from himself.

Very slowly his eyes began to flutter closed, basking in the emotions, ignoring the small sweeps of his wings as he settled.

Surely you couldn't steal a moment from yourself.

And he had yet to even finish his meal.

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**A/N; I just wanted to write something cute and fluffy to cheer myself up.** **So yeah, this is just random drabble fluff. I DO WHAT I WANT.**** Read a fanfiction earlier today that had me bawling for hours and left me empty and sad and just argh. And I needed something good in my life after it. I don't know if I'll add anything to this but for now consider it complete as a mini-ficlet. **


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